Word Play
by black4minister
Summary: I opened a dictionary at random and had to write a piece inspired by the first word I saw. You wouldn't believe the things that come into your head - or maybe that's just me! Seven chapters in total, a different word for each one. Give it a go!
1. Manage

**I know it's a miracle – I'm actually posting something! Rest assured, I am working on several things – very slowly :-)**

**A/N: You know, I really like setting myself little challenges, it makes writing so much fun! This time I opened a dictionary at random and had to write a LOTR story inspired by the first word I saw – with no cheating! I did seven of them, and some turned into quite amusing little one-shots – and some went completely off topic but sure that's the way. Well, I hope you enjoy them, I'll be posting one every day (I'll try not to forget!) And do review!**

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. **

Manage

Aragorn sighed, running his hand through his already on-end hair. Around him lay piles and piles of documents, all, supposedly, in urgent need of the new king's attention. Not for the first time Aragorn found himself wishing for the informality of the Ranger camps. The only paperwork to ever cross his path there was the occasional list of healing supplies for him to bring from Rivendell. The council of Gondor, however, appeared to be trying to drown him in lists, trade agreements and repair plans. Everyone of which he was supposed to read. He sighed again, moving his hand and causing a small paper landslide. He cursed.

Soft laughter filled the room, causing the former ranger to turn swiftly towards the door. There stood his Steward, leaning casually against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. Faramir only laughed more at the annoyed expression on his liege-lord's face, "Not going well, Sire?"

Aragorn gave up frowning, as it obviously had no effect on Faramir, and just nodded, giving a wry smile, "Valar only knows how I ever came to be crowned, if the council attached this much paper work to that as well!"

Faramir chuckled again, sliding his back off the door post and entering the room, settling into the chair on the other side of the fine oak desk. He made an arch with his fingers and surveyed Aragorn over them. "They tried to, you know. But your crowning was my responsibility, and I would have none of it"

"That would explain it then" muttered the older man, squinting at the next piece of parchment, another trade agreement. Faramir leaned forward and, in one swift movement, snatched the document from his hand. The Steward perused it. Then he frowned.

"You need to put your foot down, Sire" he said, tossing the document away, "There is no need for half of these papers, I'm sure. That one" he indicated the one he had discarded, "Alludes to an agreement with Rohan which Eomer has already signed. The paper work is done. This one" he had picked up another, glancing at it quickly, "Discusses the rebuilding of the damaged Sun Gate, which is already being rebuilt"

Aragorn merely stared at him, "If those things are already under way, then why, in all the Valars' names, are they making me read about them?"

Faramir shrugged, "Paper is all they know. Everything must go down on paper, and they would all like to think that everything they write is necessary of your attention. Just tell them that from now on you will only be looking at up to date, and truly important documents. Say that if anyone hands you one that only wastes your time, then you will deal with them. They do not know you yet" he gave a rather evil grin, "They don't know what you'll do. I think you'll find your work load much lessened. If you don't, you'll never manage"

Aragorn smiled at the younger man, leaning back in his chair, "Without _you_ I will never manage, my friend"

**A/N: So? What do you guys think? This is one that turned into a little story – there's one coming up that went completely of topic and ended up with Aragorn and Eomer having a chat – I won't tell you want the word was ;-)**

**Tomorrow's word is Soft, and it is a short one.**


	2. Soft

**A/N: Quite a short one this time. This is just what came into my head when I saw this word. I think the next one is another little story though, so don't stop reading!**

**Thanks so much to the people who read, reviewed and favourited this story so far – you rock!**

Soft

Softness – that was what he loved the most about Arwen. Despite her core of steel, everything about her was soft. Her skin, smooth to the touch; her smile, kind beyond description; her lips –

He would often return to Rivendell, having seen terrible things. Men dying, blood everywhere, women and children butchered by orcs. Or just wearied by the tolls of life in the wilderness. Nights spent under the sparse shelter of rocky outcrops, days spent chasing, or being chased by, one foe or another. And he would return, looking a little older every time, and she would be there. All softness and love. And she would take him in her embrace, and he would know that he was truly home. And he would forget everything that had happened; and lose himself to softness.

**A/N: I know it was short, but go on – review, I know you want to – I can see it O.O (I'm watching yoooouuuu!)**

**Tomorrow's word is Elegant, and that's the one that went way off topic.**


	3. Elegant

**A/N: Lol, now here's an example of one that turned into quite the funny little story, while going _completely_ off topic in the process. Still though, I think this is my personal favourite.**

**Thanks to everyone who's following – I hope you think the story is worth it. (Also, sorry for any mistakes in my auther's notes, I drilled a screw through my finger and it's making it difficult to type) **

Elegant

Elegance was a strange word to use on men, and yet that was the only way Aragorn could think to describe Prince Imrahil's sons. The stories of their Elven ancestry must surely be true, for the young princes of Dol Amroth would fit in well with the gathering from Rivendell. Well dressed, handsome and full of laughter, they were attracting a lot of attention from Gondor's females. Aragorn was just glad those same women had stopped giving their attention to him, following his announcement that he was, in fact, already betrothed.

Right now the princes were standing in a corner, studiously ignoring the women vying for their favour, and seemed to be having a, not heated so much as in depth, discussion. A hand descended on the King's shoulder, causing him to look away from the small group, up into the face of Eomer. He smiled at his friend.

"Eomer. Come, sit down!"

Eomer seated himself in the chair next to Aragorn, and looked in the direction his friend had been staring. Rohan's King spotted the three princes and smiled, "They are note-worthy, are they not?"

Aragorn laughed at how Eomer's mind had gone in the same direction as his own, "That is exactly what I was just thinking. It is their Elven ancestry, I think. It makes them..._elegant_"

Eomer cocked his head to the side, "Elegant. Yes, that is a good way to describe them. I believe I told Faramir I thought they were _prissy looking_"

Aragorn laughed outright, "I'm sure he loved that description of his cousins!"

"I would have said they were dandies if I hadn't seen them fight"

"Hmmm" Aragorn nodded. Well dressed the young princes might be, but they certainly knew their way around a battle field. The three brothers had, by now, agreed upon something, and were shaking hands. Aragorn inclined his head towards them, "I wonder what they are up to?" He was surprised to see his friend redden slightly.

"Ah" Eomer didn't meet his eye, "I believe they are agreeing on the terms of a wager"

"Oh?" Now the older man's curiosity was truly aroused, "What kind of wager?"

Eomer sighed, looking up with a slightly sheepish grin, "They are betting on when I will go to their father to ask for Lothiriel's hand"

Aragorn smiled. Eomer and the Princess had become very close, and he knew a proposal was due, "But that is fine news, my friend!"

Eomer couldn't fight the smile that came across his face, then it turned into far more of a smirk, "Faramir is in on it too, 'twas he who told me. And he will win as well"

"Oh, how so?"

Eomer was definitely smirking now, "He is the only one who knows that I have already gone to Imrahil"

Aragorn laughed again, both happy for the betrothal and at the trick, "That is fine news indeed. My congratulations Eomer" Eomer inclined his head, "And was it you who told Faramir?"

The King of Rohan shrugged "I felt I owed it to him – he is my brother now, after all. And the princes are not yet!"

**A.N: Tomorrow's word si Rain**


	4. Rain

**A/N: Hmm, this is one I had some trouble with, even though I thought it would be really easy in the beginning. Still though, I think it worked out pretty well in the end. Hope you enjoy!**

Rain

He _hated_ the rain.

As if the clouds could hear his thoughts, the downpour got heavier, and Aragorn felt more water slide down his neck. He had been walking through this storm for a full day now, and couldn't even remember what it felt like to be warm and dry. He was heading to Bree, it was getting dark and if he didn't hurry, there wouldn't be a room for him. However, the faster he walked the stronger the wind blew against him. The Valar must truly hate him right now.

It had started out as such a promising trip. Started out, that was, yesterday, with him leaving Rivendell. He always felt refreshed after spending time in his childhood home, and had left with a smile, a full pack, and the good wishes of the elves. The sun had been shining, and the birds singing, and he had walked leisurely, being in no hurry. He had stopped for lunch along the road, and made camp quite early, in a glade he had used before. He had been eating dinner when the first drops had fallen. They had quickly been followed by more, and by the time he retired to sleep, his outer coat was wet and dripping. It was not the first time he had slept in the rain, and it was not all that heavy anyway, and so he had settled down to a good night's sleep, with his coat over his head, and his bedding beneath him. He had woken up in a puddle.

Now it was a full day's walking later, the rain had turned into a storm, wind buffeting him, and the threat of lightening. He was wetter than he had ever been, including when he had been at sea with the Gondorian army. And he was still an hour from Bree. A wolf was howling somewhere. That would just make his day, if he were to be attacked by a wolf. The howl sounded closer. He shouldn't tempt Fate.

A raindrop slid down his back, somehow finding the one part of him that wasn't already drenched. He shivered. He _hated_ the rain. A flash of lightening illuminated the path, almost simultaneous to a clap of thunder. _Great_.

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone – and tomorrow's word is ****Double****, and features Aragorn and Legolas.**


	5. Double

**A/N: Lol, don't even ask where this came from – somewhere where the weirdest things hide in my mind! **

**Double**

Aragorn prided himself on having a good understanding, maybe even a note-worthy talent, of healing. But even if he didn't, he was still sure he would have known that seeing two Legolas' in front of him was not a good thing. Setting aside the fact that he had enough trouble keeping up with one of his friend, let alone a pair, he was sure he shouldn't be able to see two of them. And they defiantly shouldn't be waving around in front of him like that.

"Hold still Legolas, will you?" His voice was weak, and he squinted his eyes as the light in the room pierced his already sore head. The two Legolas' frowned, their worried faces right over his head now.

"What are you talking about, Aragorn? I'm not moving" They both appeared to be talking at the same time.

Aragorn sighed, placing an arm over his eyes, "Stop waving around like that. You two are giving me a headache!"

Because of his arm he didn't see the frown on the prince's face become outright alarm. He did, however, hear the shout Legolas let out a moment later, wincing at the loud call of 'Nestanu!' Legolas noticed the wince.

"Sorry mellon nin" he spoke more softly, as Aragorn heard hurried footsteps and a door opening, "But I had to get a healer"

The healer, Aragorn presumed, spoke in a soft and gentle voice, not aggravating his headache at all. "What is wrong my prince?"

"He thinks there's two of me" came Legolas' reply. Aragorn tried to open his eyes, but the light really was too much.

A soft laugh followed, "Yes, my lord, he is seeing double. Not unusual for someone who took such a knock to the head"

"Can't you give him something for it?"

Another laugh, "Not for a blow to the head, no. Just time and rest will help him. He'll be as good as new in a few days"

**A/N: I could have written something about the twins here, but this is what came to me first so... Tomorrow's word is ****Numerous****, and it's quite a strange one, again featuring Aragorn and Legolas, my favourite pair!**


	6. Numerous

**A/N: PLEASE READ. Ok, this one I actually got confused over myself at one point – and I was writing the thing! So, for your reference, the FIRST person to speak is Aragorn, then Legolas, then back to Aragorn, and so on. The reason I didn't add any description is because our heros are stuck in a pitch black cave and can't see anything, heehee.**

Numerous

"So, what did you see?"

"They are numerous"

"_Numerous_?"

"Yes, that is what I said"

"You can't give me something better than that?"

"You just stood on my foot"

"Well, you're the one who's supposed to be able to see in the dark, keep your feet out of the way"

"I'm not an owl, Aragorn. I can see _better than you_ in the dark. That doesn't mean I can see everything"

"Well, you could see that the orcs are numerous, right?"

"Indeed"

"Are you planning on telling me how numerous, by any chance?"

"Are you planning on going out and fighting them?"

"We cannot stay in this cave forever. How many are there?"

"Enough that I am staying in this cave for as long as necessary"

"You hate caves – despite living in one"

"You know they're aren't really that many – why don't you go out and see to them"

"I'm sensing some sarcasm"

"I hate caves"

"I know"

"They are too numerous to fight though"

"We only have to wait for them to move past"

"They're making camp for the day"

"Oh"

"Yes"

"Your ada told us not to leave until the next day"

"You would prefer to have met the orcs half way up the mountain?"

"We would have seen them coming – well, _I_ would have, you wouldn't notice a herd of rampaging mumak"

"You are quite spectacularly delusional"

"...You live in a cave"

"And you are about to be buried in one!"

**A/N: Okay, just one more to go – the last word, tomorrow, will be ****Habit****. **


	7. Habit

**A/N: This is the seventh story, which I never actually intended to write, but then did – you know when you just get the itch? Anyway, this was the last story, and my research led to an extremely amusing conversation with my sister about what wood would make good pipes and what the different woods represent in character traits – yeah we're a bit weird when we get going!**

**Amusing story – the weirdest text message I have ever sent was to my sister and went 'Would an elf get a black eye if you hit him hard enough to knock him out?' Lol, it was research for a story that I have yet to finish or post. Must work on that!**

**What's the weirdest text you've ever sent? We could have a competition! **

Habit

"Don't you even think about it"

Aragorn looked up, surprised, as Legolas stood over him. The fellowship was having a short rest under a crop of ever-greens, and the man was taking the opportunity to sit down and have a nice smoke of his pipe. He had just pulled out the small piece of carved mahogany when the elf had spoken.

"What do you mean, mellon nin?" he asked casually.

Legolas merely snorted in a very un-princely way, "Don't give me that innocent look, human. You will not light that vile contraption any where near me"

"Then go and stand somewhere else" Aragorn suggested, not bothering to look up any more, as he pulled out a small pouch of pipe-weed.

"It's a horrible habit, Aragorn, and one I blame solely on Gandalf" That got the man's attention, as he gave his friend a questioning look. "You never smoked before you met him" explained the elf, "And now you are always at it"

"I do not smoke that much, Legolas, do not exaggerate. And in fact, I picked it up from the Rangers, before I ever met Gandalf"

Legolas just tossed his head, glaring at the pipe as though it would try to bite him. "It makes little difference – the smell is still unbearable. I cannot understand why you do it" Here he looked more downcast, "As though this trip was not bad enough already – the Ring blackening the air, the hobbits moving so slowly, the Dwarf..."

"Oh alright!" Aragorn threw up his hands, beginning to pack away the pipe-weed again, "I will not smoke, if it is such a hardship to you"

Legolas was instantly beaming, "Thank you mellon nin, you are the truest friend an-"

"Is that pipe-weed I spy Aragorn? I have smoked all of mine. You will lend me some, won't you?" Gandalf had approached the pair and seen the small package before it disappeared into the ranger's pack.

Aragorn glanced at Legolas, and grinned up at the wizard. "Indeed it is, Gandalf. The best Old Toby. Have as much as you wish" He handed over the pouch, just as Legolas huffed, spinning on his heel and stomping (as much as such a light-footed creature could stomp) further into the trees.

Gandalf looked after him, one bushy eyebrow raised, "What is wrong with the elfling?"

Aragorn shrugged, pulling his pipe back out, as the wizard settled himself on the ground. "I think he is feeling hard done by right now – give him some time"

Gandalf merely shook his head, a cloud of smoke already forming around his head. "Elves" he muttered, "Such easily upset creatures"

**A/N: lol, thanks SO much to everyone who read/reviewed/favourited this story. You guys are my inspiration and love you all thiiiiiisssss much! Lol.**

**I might do some more of these some time – they are great for getting rid of writer's block. Would you guys be interested in I posted a few more? **


End file.
